


i think that possibly maybe i'm falling for you

by littledarling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sad!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledarling/pseuds/littledarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis never expected himself to fall in love again, especially at a coffeeshop of all places.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	i think that possibly maybe i'm falling for you

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay, so. This is something that I've been working on and off for the past couple of weeks because I just wasn't sure about it at all, and in the end i decided to finish it even though I'm still not entirely sure of what I think of it.  
> It's actually everything it wasn't supposed to be. I was originally going to make it really fluffy and short, and well, that didn't happen. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated :)  
> Title is from "Falling in Love at a Coffeeshop" by Landon Pigg.

 

It had been a fairly nice day, not too cold — not for London, anyway. He’s walking the busy streets when he notices the dark clouds rolling in. He swears under his breath and continues walking, this time in more of a rush to beat the inevitable rain. He can feel the temperature dropping, so he shrugs more into his coat and stuffs his hands into his pockets and keeps walking, doing his best to maneuver himself around all the people without being too rude.

When he feels the first drops of rain hit his skin, he stops in his tracks and looks up at the sky and curses Mother Nature for her horrible timing. He figures it was probably just karma getting him back for not stopping on his way there to give the poor homeless man some spare change, but he’s in a hurry because he _knew it was_ going to rain. He knew this, but for some reason he thought he could make it before it rained if he timed it just right. He mentally adds this to his long list of stupid mistakes he’s made in his twenty one years of living.

He wouldn’t even  _be_  in this situation if Zayn hadn’t used up all the milk the night before and complained the next morning that there wasn’t any left. Louis had argued with him and told him he should be the one to go out and buy some more, seeing as he’s the one who used it all, but Zayn had complained that he had a headache and gave him those big hazel eyes, and Louis, being the great friend that he is, had complied, and now – well, here he is.

The light drizzle quickly turns into a heavy down pour, soaking him from head to toe in moments. He didn’t even think to bring an umbrella – another one of his stupid mistakes – so he awkwardly tries to cover his head with both arms while jogging through the rain, looking for some type of shelter. He figures he probably looks like an idiot right now, but he doesn’t really care because he actually took the time to perfect his hair this morning and he will  _not_  let it get wet.

He sees a small brick building towards the end of the street, with a little neon green sign on the window stating that it’s open. Louis think he’s seen it before, and he might of stopped in once or twice, he’s not exactly sure; but he’s definitely in no position to be picky right now, considering he’s getting more and more wet by the second and he’s pretty sure his TOMS are ruined after he stepped into that puddle a few buildings back.

He rushes into the building quickly, sighing in relief at the sudden warmth the building brings him. The chime of the door makes the boy behind the counter look up from where it looks like he was texting on his phone, and look at Louis. He gives him a once over, taking in his current state. He gives him a sympathetic look before reaching under the counter and grabbing a mug that says  _I Heart New York_ and setting it on the counter. “Mate, you must be freezing,” the boy – maybe he should stop referring to him as that, because he only looks to be a little younger than Louis himself – is right, and he hasn’t realized until now that his teeth are chattering. “How do you take your coffee?” 

“Two sugars, no cream.” He sits down at one of the bar stools around the counter and watches the boy – the  _guy –_ do the work. He’s actually quite pretty, he thinks. He has a full head of messy curly hair that’s pushed to the side and from what he can tell, large, bright, green eyes. Louis really likes green eyes.

Curly finishes making his coffee and brings it right to his table and sets it in front of him. “Careful, it’s really hot.”

Louis mutters a quiet thank you and a soft smile in appreciation before he takes a sip. It  _is_  really hot, and he winces a bit as it burns his tongue. To be quite honest, he doesn’t really even  _like_  coffee, but he’s still fucking freezing and he’s enjoying the warmth from the drink so he’s really not going to complain.

Louis gets a good look at the guy with the curly hair now. He notices he’s wearing a name tag over his oversized ivory jumper that says Harry.  He’s just watching Louis drink it with this  _look_  on his face, his eyes big and bright and  _green_ , like a child. He’s look at him almost like he’s waiting for Louis’ approval of his coffee making skills, which is kind of ridiculous because he works at a coffee shop and all.

Louis takes another sip and actually makes a face this time, because coffee really _is_  disgusting, and he’s reminded again why he doesn’t drink the stuff in the first place.

“You’re not much of a coffee drinker, are you?” Harry asks. He has a knowing smile on his face. Louis didn’t think he was being that obvious. 

“More of a tea drinker, if I’m being honest.”

 “Well why didn’t you just say something?” Harry runs back behind the counter and takes out another mug – this time a yellow one with a smiley face on it –  and sets it on the counter with a smile. He has  _dimples_  for god’s sake. Louis really likes dimples.

“So what kind of tea do you want?”

Louis doesn’t even have to look up at the colorful chalk board menu because he already knows exactly what he wants. “Yorkshire, please.”

Harry winks. “Good choice,” he says, and begins boiling the water. “I’m more of a tea drinker myself, you know.”

Louis hums. “That’s quite ironic, don’t you think? Considering you work in a coffee shop and all.”

Harry let’s out this huge bark of laughter that actually scares Louis a bit at first, but he comes to find that he likes the sound of it. “That’s true, I never really thought about that.”

Once Harry’s done making the tea, he hands it to Louis carefully with a muttered, “I’m sure you’ll like this better.”

Louis whispers a thank you back, and takes a sip. “You’re right. Much, much better.”

Harry actually beams at him then, his dimples on full display. Louis wonders how this boy even exists.

Once he’s finished with his tea he takes a look at the clock on the wall and swears under his breath because Zayn’s going to be wondering where he is since he was just supposed to be going to Tesco’s and back. He tells Harry this, to which Harry argues with Louis that he can’t go back out in the freezing weather wearing  _that._ He actually does have a point though, because his clothes are still very damp and he’s likely to catch pneumonia or something if he goes out there in his current condition.

“I’ll drive you home.” It’s not even a question. Louis just blinks at him. 

“Don’t you have a shop to run?” He looks around the shop which is empty besides himself. He wonders if it’s always like this or if it’s just slow at this time.

“Niall’s supposed to be coming in in a few minutes, anyway.” Louis doesn’t question who Niall is, just stares back at Harry and considers.

“You don’t even know my name.”

Harry sighs. “If I ask you what your name is, will you let me drive you home?”

“Perhaps.”

“Okay, then what’s your name?”

“Louis.”

 “Well then,  _Louis,_  may I do the honor of driving you home?” He does this thing that he’s pretty sure is meant to be a courtesy, but Harry is just so awkward with his long limbs, he just looks plain ridiculous. Louis lets out a bark of laughter at that, which Harry seems to take as a yes because he mutters a, “Be right back, gotta get my coat,” before rushing into the back room.

Louis sits and waits patiently for Harry while he mentally questions his decisions. He’s pretty sure his mother taught him when he was very young never to get in a car with strangers, but he also has to take into consideration that Harry isn’t exactly a  _stranger,_  and he’s fairly certain he’s not a serial killer or anything; he’s pretty sure serial killers don’t have dimples, or at least he’s definitely never met any that have dimples, anyway. Not that Louis’ has a history of knowing serial killers or anything, but he’s seen enough horror movies and none of them have ever had dimples, so he’s pretty sure he has nothing to worry about. He still definitely won’t be mentioning this to his mum, though.

Definitely not.

Harry emerges from the back room wearing a black coat and scarf wrapped around his neck with his curls tucked into a beanie. Louis just stares at him for a second because he looks so  _young_ like this, all bundled up like a child that’s going outside to build a snowman or something. 

“Ready?” Harry smiles all big and bright, his eyes twinkling. There he goes with the fucking dimples again.

“Ready when you are.”

-

The drive home is short and silent except for the light pitter patter of the rain hitting the window shield. Louis just watches the rain drops hit the window and slowly slide down until it reaches another and they combine into one. Louis thinks it’s fascinating.

Once in a while from the corner of his eye he’ll see Harry take his eyes away from the road to glance at Louis, almost to make sure he’s still there. Louis thinks that’s kind of ridiculous considering he couldn’t exactly go anywhere even if he wanted to, and he definitely doesn’t want to. 

Eventually they reach Louis’ flat and sit in silence for a few moments before Louis turns to face Harry. “Thanks for the ride.” He smiles gently.

“No problem. See you, Louis.” 

“See you.”

Louis thinks that this is something he should probably add to his list of bad decisions, but he can’t find it in himself to do so.

-

Louis walks back into his flat with a slight smile on his face. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling until he looks up to see Zayn sitting on the couch smoking a joint and giving him this  _look._  He pays him no mind and hangs up his still-damp coat and sits on the couch next to Zayn.

Zayn passes the joint to Louis, still giving him that  _look,_ while Louis inhales deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs.

Louis’ just about to apologize for not buying the milk when Zayn says, “You’re smiling.”

Louis just shrugs and takes another drag.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that since–” but he stops himself.

Louis turns to face Zayn and gives him his own look, which means  _stop._

Zayn seems to understand because he just nods and takes the joint back from Louis.

They don’t speak about it for the rest of the night.

-

The next morning Louis decides to visit the coffee shop again. Not because of Harry, no, of course not. He just really, really likes their tea even though he’s perfectly capable of making his own at home, but.

When he gets there though, he doesn’t see the familiar mop of curls he was expecting. Instead there’s a bloke who looks to be around his own age with dark blonde hair that’s lighter at the tips. The guy looks up when he hears the bells chime and gives him a toothy grin. “Welcome to  _Maria’s!_ ” 

Louis smiles politely and takes a seat on the same bar stool he sat in the day before. 

“What can I get for ya?”  Now that Louis is close up he can see his name tag on his maroon jumper. _So this is Niall._

“Yorkshire tea, please.”  Niall nods and goes to boil the water. Louis sits awkwardly and picks at the loose thread on his jumper before gaining enough courage to ask Niall the question that’s been nagging at his mind since he walked into the shop.

“Um, is Harry not working today?” He bites his lip nervously.

Niall just turns to face him and shrugs, unbothered by the question. “He called in sick, but I know the real reason.” Louis cocks his eyebrow. “We went out last night, for my mate’s birthday.” 

Louis just laughs nervously. He’s a bit disappointed that Harry isn’t coming in today, seeing as that’s the reason he came here in the first place, but he actually does like the coffee shop and Niall seems nice enough.

“Then again,” Niall continues, “I shouldn’t be talking. I’m the one who got him to quit his studying and go to the pub with me.” He snorts.

Louis actually laughs at that. “So you and Harry are close, yeah?”

“Yeah, ever since we met in sixth form, right after I moved here from Mullingar. He’s my best mate.” He smiles a little, and Louis has to look away because he wants to ask so many more questions about Harry, he wants to know him better, but he thinks it’d be better to get to know about Harry from Harry himself, and not from his friend.

More customers start coming in, so Niall is forced to leave Louis with a little salute, which earns a small smile from Louis back. Louis just sits there and aimlessly looks through a newspaper from a week ago, so it’s all pretty old news that he has heard all before but he continues flipping through it anyway just to have something to do. 

After a while of just sitting there and watching the customers go in and go out, he decides he’s being pretty pathetic and Harry’s not going to come in today so there’s really no point in him waiting here like this. 

He leaves Niall with a small wave because he has a customer right now, and he doesn’t want to be rude. 

He walks back to his and Zayn’s flat—really it’s his flat, considering he pays most of the bills and Zayn doesn’t really do much to help out, but Louis understands that Zayn’s not making a lot of money at the moment, his artwork not selling as well as it used to. He pities Zayn, he really does, because he’s so talented and deserves much more recognition. When Louis tries to talk to Zayn about it he’ll usually shrug it off and act like it’s no big deal even though Louis _knows_  it is, and he knows how much it bothers him, but he knows Zayn so well and he knows he’ll never admit it. Louis really can’t say he blames him; if he did that would make him the biggest hypocrite ever considering he’s probably the master at not talking about his problems and acting like he’s okay when he’s sure as hell not.

When he walks into their flat Zayn’s on his usual spot on the couch, limbs splayed everywhere and a cigarette between his lips. Unlike the night before, Louis isn’t smiling. Zayn notices the change – of course he does – but he doesn’t comment on it. Louis’s very thankful to call him his best mate at that moment.

Louis nods at Zayn as he pushes Zayn’s legs off the couch and takes his seat next to him. Zayn glares at him for a moment for almost pushing him entirely off the couch, but his eyes soften when he takes in Louis’ current state. He sighs softly and hands the fag over to Louis, to which Louis gives a thankful smile in return and takes a puff. He doesn’t usually smoke, but he figures he has a right to considering the state of his life at the moment.

Zayn just watches Louis for a few moments before smiling sadly and taking the fag from his hand. “One day at a time, Lou.”

-

Louis can’t even find it in himself to get out of bed the next morning.

He thinks he hears Zayn check on him every hour or two. He’ll hear the door open and something that sounds like a soft sigh, but he doesn’t look up to check to see if he’s right. He’d much rather wallow in his own self-pity then indulge in any human contact at the moment, really.

He ends up sleeping the entire day, finally waking up around 5 pm to see a hot cup of tea waiting for him. He smiles a little at that, knowing that Zayn must have set this out for him not too long ago from the look of the steam pouring out of the mug.

He sits up a little in bed and picks up the mug and takes a small sip –Yorkshire tea, two sugars and no milk, just like he likes it. Zayn knows him so well.

He gets out of bed, taking the tea with him, and walks into the living room. Zayn’s sitting up on the couch, watching something on the telly that Louis thinks he recognizes but can’t quite put his finger on. When Zayn hears Louis walk in he turns his head and smiles gently up at him, patting the seat next to him.

Louis sits next to Zayn and sips at his tea and watches whatever it is that’s on the telly for a few minutes in silence before Zayn sighs and shuts the television off. He turns to face Louis and bites his lip, just staring for a few long moments before whispering, “Louis.”

Louis sighs because he knows exactly what’s coming. He turns to face Zayn, not exactly making eye contact. “Zayn.” 

“You haven’t been taking your meds.” Zayn says louder this time.

Louis just shrugs and takes another sip of his tea. “I know.”

“Lou, you  _know_  you have to take them.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Louis.”

“Zayn, I’m fine.”  He finally looks away and stares into his mug that’s almost empty. He knows he doesn’t sound reassuring at all, and he doesn’t even know why he bothers because Zayn knows him better than he knows himself, really, and there really isn’t any point in trying to convince Zayn that he’s fine because he’s obviously not.

“Don’t even give me that bullshit, Louis. You’re not fine.” Zayn takes the mug of tea from his hands and sets it on the coffee table in front of them and turns completely in his seat to face Louis. “Lou, look at me.”

Louis turns his head a little so his eyes are locked with Zayn’s big brown ones filled with concern, and he feels horrible in that moment because Zayn has enough of his own shit to handle, and he’s putting all of this on him, once again.

“You’re right. I’m not fine.” He says softly. He feels the tears stinging at his eyes, but he blinks them away because he’s not going to cry in front of Zayn. He’s not.

“I know you aren’t.” Zayn says just as softly, and pulls him into a hug. Louis hugs him just as tight, inhaling his musky scent and burying his head into his shoulder. He’s not even aware that he’s crying until he hears the choked off sob escape his lips, and at first he’s not even sure it was him that made the noise until Zayn pulls away from the hug to wipe the hot tears that are pouring down his face with a sad smile, and he realizes that Zayn’s crying, too.

“It’ll be okay, Lou.” He looks into his eyes, really looks into them, and Louis can’t really do much but nod and pray that Zayn is right.

One day at a time.

-

The next morning he’s feeling a little better. He gets out of bed at half past nine, not really sleeping much that night since he slept the entire day the day before. He walks into their small living room and sees Zayn sprawled out on the couch, still sleeping. He smiles softly and picks up the duvet that he must have pushed off at some point during the night and puts it back over his body. It’s fucking freezing in their flat, since they can’t afford heat, so they kind of live for thick wool blankets and jumpers.

Louis walks into their kitchen – he doesn’t even know if it’s worthy enough to call a  _kitchen_ , it’s probably the size of a very small closet, with just enough room to fit a small refrigerator and stove with literally no counter space but the small slab that’s probably not even the size of a  _book_  that’s right next to refrigerator. But really, you get what you can pay for, and if they wanted to live in London like they do, they had to make some serious sacrifices, having a very small kitchen being one of them.

As much as he doesn’t want to, as much as he wishes that he could just be happy by himself without having to rely on medication, he takes the small prescription bottle off of their small counter and swallows the pill dry. The medicine doesn’t make him happy, it just makes him numb. That’s why he stopped taking the medicine in the first place, but Zayn would never understand that. His therapist did warn him of that, though. “This medication isn’t just going to magically make you happy, Louis. No medication can do that. It’s just going to numb your pain, being happy is something you’re going to have to work on doing yourself.” She smiled sadly at him and squeezed his shoulder, and Louis really couldn’t do much of anything but nod.

He sighs and goes to boil some water to make tea, but then stops himself and thinks that maybe today would be a good day to go back to the coffee shop.  If he has any chance at being happy at all, it’s probably there. It’s probably really ridiculous, considering he doesn’t even really  _know_ the boy, but being around Harry, even just  _thinking_  of Harry brings a smile to his face.

He thinks that’s probably a good start.

-

As soon as he steps foot in the coffee shop he’s engulfed in the scent that’s starting to become so familiar: coffee and cinnamon and just absoulte  _comfort._  

The sound of the bells chiming startles the boy at the counter, and he whips his head up to look at Louis, his curls bouncing, some falling in front of his eyes, and Louis smiles just a little bit in relief because he’s  _here._

“Louis!” Harry all but  _shouts_ excitedly, apparently disturbing the older couple sitting in the corner of the shop, but Harry doesn’t seem like he cares too much because he’s jumping over the counter to engulf Louis in a warm hug.

“I was hoping I’d see you again,” he whispers into Louis’ shoulder. Louis wanders if this is something Harry normally does—hug people that are practically strangers. Louis isn’t complaining though, he hugs back just as tightly and sighs in contentment.

Harry eventually pulls back, though, and he practically _beams_  down at Louis. “Yorkshire tea?”

Louis just nods and manages a soft “yes” in response before taking his seat on the stool around the counter. He watches Harry boil the water while humming a tune that he’s fairly positive is  _Imagine._

Louis decides to speak up. “John Lennon, yeah?”

Harry turns around from where he’s steeping the tea bag into Louis’ mug and nods. “Genius, that man.”

Louis hums in agreement, and they fall into a comfortable silence after that. He listens to Harry hum the familiar tune and wonders to himself if Harry sings. He’s pretty sure Harry would be brilliant at it.

Speaking up seemed to work for him before, so he figures he might as well do it again. As Harry is setting the mug of tea in front of him with a muttered “Careful, it’s hot,” Louis blurts, “Do you sing?”

Harry seems a little taken aback by the question, but he laughs nervously and pushes his hair out of his eyes and says, “Kind of. I used to be in a band, we were quite rubbish though, so.”

“I was just wondering, because I can totally picture you as a singer.”

Harry smiles a little at that. “Really?” 

“Yeah.”

Harry hums and sucks on his bottom lip for a second before speaking up, “I can picture you as a writer or something like that. You have that whole vibe going on.”

Louis almost chokes on his tea. “What ‘vibe?’”

Harry chuckles. “Like, I don’t know.  The ‘mysterious and quiet’ kind of vibe. I associate that with writers and poets and stuff, so.”

“Mysterious? Not really.” He laughs a little at that, because  _if only_  he knew Zayn, “But I do write a little actually, yeah.”

“Ha! I was right.” He smiles all big and bright and cheeky and it makes Louis bite the inside of his cheek because  _dimples._  “But seriously, Lou, I’d love to read some of your writing sometime.”

Louis looks down into his mug at that, embarrassed. “I’m not that good, really. It’s mainly just drabbles and stuff. I can never get myself to finish anything I’ve started.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Maybe you just need a muse or something.” 

Louis’ smile drops at that because  _he_  said the same exact thing to him not that long ago. Right before they ended things.

Harry seems to notice the change of Louis’ mood because he puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder and whispers, “Hey, Lou, you alright?” Louis looks up a little, and Harry’s bright green eyes are filled with nothing but pure concern. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want another person worrying about him.

He clears his throat and fakes a smile. He doesn’t think he’s getting any better at it. He thinks he probably should by now considering how often he’s had to do it.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I’m fine.” But his mind is screaming at him  _no, I’m not fine at all._

Harry doesn’t look too convinced, though. “All right, if you’re sure…” He trails off a little bit. He’s still staring at Louis with this look in his eyes, and Louis has to look away from his gaze because he feels like it’s is burning a hole into him, like if Harry looked at him long enough he could read him inside and out, like an open book.

Louis fakes another smile. “Of course I am.” 

Harry smiles a little too, but it’s not reaching his eyes. “Okay.”

-

The next few days go by slowly and pretty much the same after that. Louis visits the coffee shop every morning at around ten in the morning to be greeted by Harry’s bright smile and warm embrace. After the third day Harry stops asking what Louis wants to order and by the time Louis walks into the shop there’s already a hot mug of tea sitting right in his spot waiting for him. He likes this. He likes this lot.

Louis’ lucky because the hours Harry works aren’t usually all that busy, so that leaves a lot of time for them to just talk. Sometimes they’ll talk about certain things like music or who got voted off the X-Factor the night before. Other times they’ll talk about nothing in particular and go into silences which probably should be awkward, but are really nothing but comfortable.

Louis learns Harry's full name—Harry Styles, and that he just turned nineteen in February and that he’s from Cheshire but moved to London to go to university. He also learns that Harry’s a huge Beatles fan, which would explain Harry’s humming those few days before. “My walls are like, covered in posters and old articles of them. I have all the albums, too. My grandfather gave them to me for my eleventh birthday, and ever since then I’ve been obsessed, really.” Louis had smiled when Harry told him that, really smiled, because Harry was just so genuine and honest and he could tell Harry was a bit embarrassed telling Louis this, but he told him anyway, which means he trusted him enough to do so.

Louis tells Harry about himself as well, sparing him the gory details of his past and how fucked up his life really is. He tells Harry about Zayn and how he’s an artist but he doesn’t get nearly as much recognition as he deserves, and Harry tells him that one of his mates Liam knows a guy that could check out some of his work and maybe get him into one of his art shows in a couple of weeks.

“I obviously can’t promise anything, but he’s a really nice guy and I think it’s a huge possibility.” Harry had bit his lip and looked at Louis, just waiting for his response. Louis just looked at Harry in pure awe for a few moments, because he didn’t think it was possible for a human being to be so genuine and caring. His heart swelled with affection for the younger boy, because he has no idea how much he needs this, how much  _Zayn_ needs this. He doesn’t even  _know_ Zayn, yet he’s willing to go out of his way to help him out. He pulled Harry into a hug just then. It was a little awkward considering Harry is taller than him and Louis had to reach over the counter, but it was comforting and warm, nonetheless.

“Thank you,” he had whispered quietly into Harry’s ear.

Harry had just squeezed Louis tighter in response, as a silent  _you’re welcome._

There are times when they are talking and Harry will bring up something that reminds him of  _him_  and Louis will flinch just that little bit, and Harry will continue talking but with more of a cautious tone in his voice. He’ll look at Louis with concern in his eyes, and sometimes he’ll bite his lip in concentration and then he’ll look like he’s about to say something, but he never does. Louis  _knows_  Harry knows something’s up, he doesn’t know how Harry knows exactly, because he thought he was putting on the happy act pretty well, but apparently he’s either not as good of an actor as he thought he was or Harry just knows him really well. That scares him. 

That same day Louis walks into their flat and sees Zayn moping in self-pity on the couch again, cigarette hanging from his lips. He thinks he might of actually fell asleep smoking it, but his thoughts are proven wrong when Zayn lifts a hand to do what he  _thinks_  is supposed to be a wave. His eyes are still closed, though, so Louis sighs heavily and hangs up his coat on the rack and walks up to Zayn and stands there, hands on his hips.

“Zayn.”

Zayn just groans in response, so he tries again. “ _Zayn.”_ Another groan.

He decides he needs to take matters into his own hands and takes the fag from Zayn’s lips and puts it out in the ash tray on their coffee table. Zayn’s eyes open at that, and he looks like’s about to say something, probably tell Louis off or give him the speech that he’s heard so many times before, that  _cigarettes are expensive. You can’t just waste them like that,_ but Louis cuts him off.

“I have good news. No—better than good. Fucking _fantastic_  news.”

Zayn just raises an eyebrow up at him, not looking phased by Louis’ good mood at all. Louis sighs once again and tells him everything. By the end of it Zayn’s actually sitting up in a normal position, eyes wide.

“Oh my god.” Louis doesn’t think Zayn’s capable of actual speech at the moment, so he continues.

“Harry says he’ll talk to Liam about it tomorrow, he thinks there’s a huge possibility of this working out. Things might actually be turning around for you, mate.” He smiles down at him, where Zayn seems to be in a state of shock.

Zayn gets up out of his position on the couch and engulfs Louis into another hug. Louis thinks Zayn smells horrible, which is definitely not normal for him considering Zayn’s always been the one to care about his appearance dearly and Louis used to actually mock him for it, but he ignores it and hugs Zayn back just as tightly.

Zayn’s still muttering  _oh my god_  over and over again and Louis’ actually beginning to think Zayn has gone into shock. He’s not really sure what to do because he’s never been in this position before.

He takes a deep breath when Zayn pulls away from the hug and looks deeply into Louis’ eyes. “Things are finally turning around.” He breathes.

Louis smiles back, “Yeah, they are.”  _For you,_  he thinks.

-

Zayn had insisted that he met Harry, so the next day Louis brought him with him to the coffee shop.

Harry had told them to come in before they opened so they could have a private chat and not be interrupted, so they had to wake up at five in the morning. Zayn had to practically drag Louis out of bed, and under normal circumstances Zayn would probably be doing exactly what Louis was doing, but Zayn was _really_  excited to meet Liam.

As soon as they walked in, they were greeted with Harry’s familiar and bright smile and another smile from a bloke next to him that Louis doesn’t recognize but thinks must be Liam.

They’re both sitting on the counter – Louis doesn’t think that can be sanitary but he’s not going to question them – but as soon as they see the two of them walk in the shop they hop off of it. Harry rushes over to Louis and envelopes him in a hug before doing the same to Zayn—Harry just isn’t shy at all, apparently. Zayn hugs back, but his eyes are trained in front of him to where Liam is standing there awkwardly.

 Harry breaks away from the hug and smiles big and bright. “Louis, Zayn, this is my mate I was telling you about, Liam.” He pushes Liam forward a little bit so he’s standing right in front of Zayn. 

They kind of just stare at each other for what seems like forever, both of them gawking like a fish, completely oblivious to everything going on around them. Louis keeps looking from them to Harry, confused as ever as to what’s going on. Harry has this knowing smile on his face which grows bigger and bigger until all of a sudden he bursts into a fit of laughter, clapping his hand over his mouth as if to muffle the sound and Louis can’t help but laugh with him because Liam and Zayn are both so  _obvious._ That seems to throw the two lads out of their trance, because Liam awkwardly clears his throat and extends his hand. 

“I’m Liam.” He smiles kindly, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid Zayn’s going to reject his handshake or something.

Zayn looks over to Louis for guidance, his eyes bulging out of his head, and this is so not like Zayn at  _all,_ Zayn’s usually always so confident with himself, especially around guys. Zayn was always Louis’ wingman, not the other way around. 

Louis just nods in encouragement, mouthing “go on” which seems to do the trick because then Zayn puts on his signature smile, all teeth and charm. This is Zayn’s forte, what he’s good at – flirting. He shakes Liam’s hand firmly, maybe a little longer than necessary. “Zayn. It’s  _very_  nice to meet you, Liam.”

Louis looks back at Harry, eyebrow raised.  Harry just winks at him, points to the other side of the shop, signaling Louis to come with him. Louis nods and follows, covering his mouth to hide his smile.

Once they’re sat a table across the room from Liam and Zayn, Harry whispers, “Oh my  _god,”_  then let’s out that inhuman noise that is his laugh that Louis can’t seem to get enough of.

“I feel like we’re cupid or something!” Harry continues. Louis just nods his head and looks back across the shop to his best friend and Liam. He can tell already that Zayn’s smitten, and of course he’s happy for him, he is; it’s just that Zayn falls for people so  _easily._ The last thing he needs is to get his heart broken; Louis doesn’t think he could handle that right now, especially right now with everything being so bad for the both of them. 

“Yeah, I know,” Louis says softly. He turns back to face Harry, tries his best to fake a smile that he thinks he’s perfecting but he really doesn’t know anymore. “It’s great.”

-

Louis doesn’t really know why he’s surprised. He has no reason to be, really. It was quite obvious and he should have been expecting it.

So when he walks back into their flat that night after a long day of looking for a job to the pay the bills because it’s just a matter of time before their water gets shut off, he doesn’t know why he gasps when he sees Liam standing in the middle of their living room, pants unzipped and Zayn kneeling before him.

As soon as they heard Louis, they both look up, alarmed. Liam looks like a deer caught in headlights, his face turning redder and redder by the second. Zayn just looks at Louis dead on with a straight face.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Liam just keeps repeating that and a mutter of “sorry, sorry, so sorry” while he pulls his pants up quickly, grabs his wallet and storms out the door. Zayn doesn’t even try to stop him, just stays in his position on the floor, still staring at Louis.

As soon as the door shuts Louis leans up against the wall and waits for Zayn to talk. There’s nothing for him to say, really.

Zayn holds eye contact with Louis for a few moments longer before sighing and turning his head away from Louis’ gaze. “What do you want me to say, Louis?”

Louis shrugs. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“I really like him, Lou,” he says quietly, just over a whisper.

“You  _just_ met him today.” Zayn turns his head so he’s facing Louis now. He’s getting mad, Louis can tell by his eyes, but Louis can’t get his mouth to stop moving, words are just spilling out now. “And you know, I’d rather you give me some kind of warning before I walk in on you two fucking.”

 “We weren’t  _fucking_ ,” Zayn spits.

Louis scoffs. “Might as well been.”

Zayn stands up now, walks up to Louis and towers over him. “Just because you can’t keep a fucking relationship doesn’t mean you get to ruin  _mine_.”

That makes Louis shut up. He takes one step back, then two. He’s still watching Zayn, he can see the anger from his eyes slowly disappear and the snarl that was on his lips fade into sorrow right before his eyes.

“Oh my god, Lou, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that– you-you  _know_  that,” Zayn’s panicking now, stepping closer and closer to Louis and putting his hands on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Lou, so sorry.”

Louis laughs bitterly. “No, mate, it’s alright. Not like you didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

Then he pulls Zayn’s arms off of him one by one with a harsh grip and storms past him into his bedroom because he really doesn’t want to be anywhere near Zayn at the moment. 

-

The next morning when he wakes up, Zayn isn’t there. He checked everywhere in the flat—not that there’s a lot of places in the flat he could  _be_ , really. He figures Zayn probably didn’t think he wanted him around, which really isn’t entirely a lie because he’s still pissed from the night before; it’s just weird waking up without Zayn being there. He’s used to the smell of coffee in the morning that he grew to get used to  because Zayn is a  _coffee person—_ he’s tried to convert him to tea many times before but all turned out to be failed attempts in the end. He never understood how Zayn could drink the stuff, and he would nag him about it every morning. So this morning was a lot different; a lot quieter. He doesn’t like it.

He thinks back to the night before, what they both said to each other.  Louis knows Zayn didn’t mean what he said; he knows that sometimes people say things that they don’t mean. But the thing is, everything Zayn said was true, and that’s what got to Louis the most. Even though Zayn didn’t mean to say it out loud, Louis knows that Zayn probably thinks it all the time. Hell, he sure does.

It’s not that he’s not happy for Zayn. He is, he really is. He’s just scared. He’s scared for Zayn because the last thing Zayn needs right now is to get his heart broken, and Louis doesn’t really know Liam but from what he can tell, he looks harmless. Then again, so did  _he_  at first.

Louis would really hate to be  _that friend_ that had to pull the boyfriend away from the dinner table and warn him not to hurt his friend, but he also knows that that’s not completely out of the realm of probability because really, that sounds like exactly something Louis would do. He worries about his best friend, that’s all. 

Louis would like to tell himself that he’s just being a good friend and looking out for Zayn, because he knows that Zayn would do the exactly the same thing for him if the situation was reversed; probably more, even. But he also knows that he’s lying to himself. All he’s been thinking about are Zayn’s words from last night, the words replaying over and over in his head like a broken record. The words sting, they really do, but they’re also true, and Louis knows this. 

So yeah, maybe Louis’ a little jealous of Zayn. He’s jealous because Zayn can keep a relationship; he always has been good at commitment and trust, something Louis can’t do, at least not yet. But he also knows that he a reason why he can’t, a reason that Zayn knows just as well as he does, because Zayn was the one that had to deal with him afterwards—the days where he wouldn’t leave his bed for anything, the nights where he would wake up screaming, the countless therapy sessions that Zayn had to take him to because Louis would refuse to go otherwise. Zayn was there through all of it. 

He sighs, taking a look in the mirror, at his appearance. He takes in the dark circles under his eyes from being so  _tired._  Not physically tired, all he’s been doing lately is sleeping it seems like, no—mentally tired, utterly drained and exhausted. 

He needs to leave the flat, he doesn’t know why, but he feels like he needs to all of a sudden, like he’s being suffocated. He’s not used to being alone—he hates it, and Zayn’s not here and his chest is starting to feel really tight and all of this anxiety is starting to pile up, and he doesn’t think he can stay here one more second. He throws on a beanie that he finds in a mess of clothes on the floor next to his bed because he really can’t bother to mess with his hair today. He doesn’t really care, it’s not like he has anyone to impress, not really.

While he’s brushing his teeth his eyes land on the bottle of pills sitting on the counter. He knows he needs to take them. He knows this, of course he does. But Zayn’s not here to make sure that he’s taking them, so he doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to be numb anymore. He wants to  _feel._

-

Somehow he finds himself back in the coffee shop which is already starting to feel like a second home of his. He doesn’t know  _why_ he likes it so much, he wants to say it’s because of the comfort of it, the smell of coffee and cinnamon and the record player in the very corner of the shop that Harry’s in charge of because he says Niall’s taste in music is unacceptable, but really, he just really, really likes being around Harry.

Niall’s here today, he smiles up at Louis as he walks in and walks around the counter to give him a warm hug.

“How are you?” he mutters into Louis’ shoulder.

“Never better,” Louis lies. He really doesn’t know if he sounds convincing at all, but Niall pulls away from the hug and seems to accept his answer because he smiles again and walks behind the counter and starts making Louis’ tea.

“Harry should be here any minute now.” Louis takes that moment to sit in his usual spot and watches Niall boil the water. “He called me about an hour ago and said he’d be late because of the weather and all."

Louis nods and rubs his hands together, trying to warm them up because he’s an idiot and forgot gloves. “It’s bloody freezing out there.”

Niall nods. “Think we’d be used to it by now.” He sets his tea down in front of him. Louis takes a generous sip, and notes immediately that Harry’s tea tastes better to him for some reason.

He and Niall engage in small talk for a while—more talk about the weather, some talk about American football because apparently Niall and Harry are both huge fans of the Packers which Louis doesn’t understand at all because they aren’t even  _American—_ music, which Louis comes to realize right away that Harry was correct about Niall’s music taste being rubbish. He listens to the mainstream crap, Justin Bieber included.

Niall begins this huge speech that Louis thinks he must has memorized or something by now because his words just start flowing like he’s had to say it many times before.

“He’s  _talented._  He got discovered at like, fourteen. Could you do that? Because I sure as hell don’t–”

Niall’s speech is interrupted by the door opening, bells chiming and the cool air from outside flooding the small shop. Louis curls into his jumper a little more and holds his tea up to his lips, trying to hide his smile.

“Niall, are you seriously giving that speech again?” Harry says as he walks through the door, bright grin and all. He’s all bundled up from head to toe in this huge black coat that practically covers his bum and a beanie with his curls tucked in and his cheeks flushed from the cold. Louis thinks he looks utterly adorable.

Niall rolls his eyes and walks to the back room with a muttered “You’re all just jealous.”

Harry walks over to Louis and sits down in the seat next to his, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry about that, Niall’s pretty defensive over him. He’s told me he’s positive he’s straight about a million times before, but I’m not really convinced.”

Louis bursts into a fit of laughter at that. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

Harry looks around the all but empty shop and back to Louis. “The place is dead, and anyway, why would I do that when I could be talking to you instead?”

Louis looks down, trying his best to hide his blush, holding his empty mug right below his face. Of course Harry notices his blush, of course he does.

“You’re blushing.” He pokes Louis in the cheek, which makes him blush even more. “Don’t hide it, it’s cute.”

Louis doesn’t say anything just looks up and away from Harry’s gaze and clears his throat. “Looks like there’s a customer coming in,” An older woman wearing a fur coat walks in just then, so Harry has no choice but to get up and take her order. Louis’s thankful for that, because he needs time to even out his breathing and get himself together because  _he’s not supposed to feel like this._ He can’t. 

Once Harry is done with the woman’s order, he walks up to Louis from the behind the counter and notices his empty mug. “Need a refill?”

Louis just nods, picking at a loose thread on his jumper, trying to do anything he can to avoid eye contact.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just picks up his mug and goes to refill it. Harry’s back is turned away from him, so Louis lets his eyes roam the long expanse of his back. He can see his muscles ripple even through his oversized black jumper as he bends down to look in the cabinet for the tea bags. Louis tries to look away from his bum, he really tries, but he’s never been very good at resisting his temptations, so he lets himself look. Just for a second.

Luck really isn’t in his favor today, because just then Harry turns around and meets his gaze, noticing where his eyes are at. Harry just gives him a cheeky grin and a wink and goes back to looking for the Yorkshire tea. Harry seemed unbothered, but Louis thinks he might just have a heart attack right then and there.

Once Harry is done making his tea, he sets it down in front of him, and as usual he mutters, “Careful, it’s hot,” but this time is a lot different than the other times because Louis looks up to meet his gaze right at that second and the look in Harry’s eyes makes Louis breath catch and for him to almost drop the mug of tea.

He takes a careful sip of it, and just as he expected, it tasted so much better than Niall’s.

They fall into a comfortable silence. Every once in a while a customer will come in and Harry will take their order, but it’s almost noon and by that time the shop starts slowing down and Niall’s shift is over so that means it’s just Harry and Louis alone together in the shop. By themselves. Alone.

Harry, of course, being Harry, starts chatting away, not even realizing Louis stiff posture and his short replies and how he’s doing everything he can to not meet his gaze, looking just above his head or out the window,  _anything_ he can do to not look into his bright green eyes.

Harry launches into a story about how before he worked at the coffee shop he worked at a bakery a few blocks down for about two years and how every morning an old woman would show up and order the same thing—two bagels, toasted, no cream cheese—and he didn’t know why she kept showing up until one day Harry got curious and asked the woman, and she had told him how she came here for her sick husband that was in the hospital, and that he couldn’t eat much, and that when he was healthy he used to come to their bakery all the time, that it was his favorite. Not even two weeks later, the woman stopped coming in, and Harry had learned from his mother that the woman’s husband had passed and not even two days later she passed away as well. 

Louis was listening, of course he was listening. Once in a while he would nod or hum to let Harry know that he was, of course still avoiding his gaze. 

Eventually Harry stops talking, sighs, and gently says, “Louis.”

Louis turns his head from where he was looking out the window, at the passing cars and the pedestrians walking down the street. “Hm?”

“You’re unhappy.” It’s not a question.

Louis looks down a little and clears his throat awkwardly. “Why would you say that?”

Harry sighs and smiles sadly. “I’m not stupid, Lou.” He inches closer to Louis and softly brushes his fingertips over Louis’ cheekbone. “Your eyes;” he slowly drags his fingers so they’re brushing the corner of his right eye, “they’re beautiful, but they have no light.” He lets his fingertips trace every inch of Louis’ face carefully, gently. Louis’ breathing is quickening by the minute; he can feel his heart beating so fast he thinks it might just pop out of his chest at any moment. “Your smile,” he lets his fingertips brush over Louis’ old laugh lines; old because he doesn’t laugh as much as he used to, not anymore, “it doesn’t reach your eyes.”  Harry looks up and stares into Louis’ eyes, blue locked on green. They just stare for a little bit, and Louis’ pretty sure that in those romantic movies that he’s seen this is probably the time where they would kiss, but Louis being Louis, he glances away and stares back out the window, completely ruining the moment.

“You’re wrong,” he mutters.

“Louis-”

“No,” he interrupts. He looks Harry right in the eyes. “You don’t even know me.”

“You’re right,” Harry says gently, his tone smooth like honey. “But I want to get to know you; you just have to let me.”

“I have to go.” Louis stands up quickly, not once looking at Harry’s face to gauge his reaction. He turns around and walks to the door, not stopping, and he’s pretty sure he hears Harry whisper, “Who broke your heart, Louis?” but he still doesn’t turn around.

Right about now he regrets his decision of not taking his medicine that morning, for wanting to feel something. He wishes he didn’t feel regret for leaving Harry abruptly like that, with no explanation. He wishes he didn’t feel  _anything_ for that boy at all, that boy that somehow knows so much about him when he hadn’t told him anything at all. 

It’s raining, just like that first day Louis had visited the coffee shop. The rain is soaking him from head to toe, and he knows he’s being stupid and he should just go back to the warm coffee shop and apologize and tell Harry that he’s right and he’s not happy at all, but he can’t do that, so he sucks it up and trudges through the rain, not even bothering to be polite to the people around him and just shoving right through them. He receives quite a few nasty glares in the process, but he doesn’t care.

Right about now he wishes he was  _numb._

-

Louis needs an escape.

After about three glasses of whiskey that he found in his old stash in one of the cabinets right above the microwave in their not-worthy-of-even-being- a-kitchen kitchen, he’s feeling pretty good, and he can’t even remember what he was upset about earlier.

Zayn comes home a little after eight at night to find Louis splayed across the couch, bottle of whiskey in hand. Zayn walks over to Louis cautiously, and when Louis’ eyes open and he shouts, “Zayney!” he sighs and mutters “Oh, Louis, not again.”

Louis falls back asleep not even a minute after that, so Zayn carries him to his room and tucks him in.

Louis doesn’t remember seeing Zayn at all that morning. The only thing he can really think of right now is the pounding in his head and the ache in his stomach. Shit, maybe drinking that much the night before wasn’t one of his better ideas. That definitely is going on his list of bad decisions, he thinks.

He gets out of bed slowly, balancing himself on the nightstand so he doesn’t fall over. He trudges into the living room and sees Zayn sitting on the couch, looking over at Louis all parental like. Louis just rolls his eyes—ouch, bad idea—and walks into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water from the tap and pops two ibuprofens before looking over at Zayn. “Well, spit it out already.”

Zayn’s still giving him  _that look._ “You haven’t got piss drunk by yourself since last time.”

“I was feeling rebellious.”

“Louis.”

“Zayn.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and sighs. “Look, Louis, I know you’re doing this because of him.”

Louis decides to play dumb. He’s quite good at it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Louis. You like him a lot. I can tell.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just averts his gaze and pretends he’s suddenly very interested in their broken toaster. “We really need to get a new one of these,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I miss having egg on toast, don’t you? I don’t think toasters cost that much–”

“Louis.”

Louis sighs in defeat. “Okay,” he whispers. “Maybe I like him a little.”

Zayn smiles a little in victory. “Come here.” 

Louis walks over and sits down next to Zayn hesitantly. He knows where this is going.

“If you like him, why don’t you do something about it?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

 “You can’t be scared forever, Lou. Not all guys are going to hurt you like he did.”

Louis looks over to Zayn.  “You don’t know that.”

Zayn nods a little. “You’re right, I don’t,” he reaches over to grab Louis’ hand and squeezes it. “But Liam’s always talking about Harry, he seems like a really nice guy from what I can tell. I don’t think he’d hurt you.”

Louis doesn’t say anything for a while. “I’m scared, Zayn.”

“Don’t be.”

Louis squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in deeply. Zayn has a point, he really does.

“Okay,” he breathes.

“Okay?” He can hear the smile in Zayn’s voice.

“Okay.”

-

He doesn’t sleep well that night, to say the least.

He tosses and turns all throughout the night but more than anything he  _thinks._

He thinks about his mum and sisters in Doncaster and wonders how they’re doing because the only contact he has with them now days are monthly five minute phone calls. He wonders what his mum would think if she knew how her son was doing; he thinks if by some miracle she did call right now he would probably lie like he usually does when people ask the question. Louis’ beginning to realize that he’s either a horrible liar or people just know him too well, but his mum kind of lost interest in him years ago it seems, so he doesn’t think she’d notice.

He thinks about Zayn and Liam— Zayn had told him that Liam had talked to his friend Andy and that he could manage to fit some of Zayn’s work into one of his upcoming shows. Zayn had been absolute ecstatic, and so had Louis. He was happy for his best friend.

Zayn hadn’t talked about Liam to Louis since  _that day;_  Louis wishes Zayn would talk about it, because even though he is worried about his best friend and also a little jealous, he wants to know how their relationship is going—he figures it’s a relationship now, considering Zayn’s never home anymore and he’s been spending the night at Liam’s with no notice except a letter at Louis’ night stand every night saying, “Spending the night at Liam’s, be back later. Xx.” The first time that had happened was the night of their fight, but instead of leaving a note Zayn had left Louis a text that he didn’t get until the day later because he rarely uses his phone—he’s not really sure why he even bothers having one, it’s useless, really. 

But mostly he thinks of Harry. He thinks of what he’s going to say to him: “Oh, hi, Harry. Yeah, you were right. I’m kind of really unhappy, and yeah I had my heart broken by this one bloke last year, and I’m completely over it because he was a dick, but now I’m fucked up, and I don’t know what to do about it because I really like you which kind of makes me scared as hell. But yeah, how’s your day going?” He doesn’t think that would go too well.

He thinks of his bright green eyes that remind him of summertime, the way they light up when he smiles that beautiful smile that takes up his entire face, and his dimples—how his left one is just a little more prominent than the other and sometimes Louis has to really resist the urge to poke it, and how when he laughs he laughs  _loud,_  and he slaps his hand over his mouth as if trying to muffle the sound, but it never works. He's glad it doesn't, because he loves Harry's laugh. Every single thing Harry does just fascinates Louis—how different he is from anyone he’s ever met before, how easily he can read Louis, like an open book. That scares Louis a bit, but the fact that Harry takes the time to study Louis and realize the things that most people don’t—that means a lot to him. Louis’ not one for pity, he doesn’t want any of it. But with Harry it’s different. Not once did Harry say he was sorry, not once did Louis see any sympathy or pity in Harry’s eyes. He saw curiosity and understanding.

Now, Louis’ not usually one to act on instinct. He likes to think his decisions through before he does anything—so it’s quite unlike him to wake up at 9 am sharp (not that he really slept that night to begin with) and throw a beanie on and head out of his flat and walk the five minute and twenty seven second walk to the coffee shop. (Six minutes and twelve seconds on the busy mornings—yes, he counted.) 

As he walks he somewhat contemplates what he’s going to say to Harry. He doesn’t know if he should apologize for being a complete twat or whether he should just tell him the truth before he loses the courage to and changes his mind.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it though, because before he knows it he’s walking into the coffee shop that he’s come to love so much over the past month and a half—has it really only been that long? — and he’s greeted to the sound of the bells chiming and the immediate comfort the coffee shop brings him.

Harry’s standing behind the counter, he’s just staring at Louis with this look in his eyes—surprise? Happiness? Louis’s not sure—but what he is sure of is as soon as he locks eyes with Harry it seems like his nerves disappear right then and there and he still doesn’t know what he’s going to say but he decides he’s just going to go with it.

The shop is empty—thank God—so he takes the little sign on the window with the neon green letters that say ‘open’ and turns off the little switch on the side so it’s no longer lit up. So they don’t have any interruptions. 

Harry doesn’t say anything throughout the whole thing, he just watches. Once Louis is satisfied that the sign is definitely turned off and that there will be no interruptions, he turns around and walks over slowly to the counter. Again, Harry doesn’t say anything, but there’s something in his eyes that Louis thinks is confusion. He doesn’t blame him really; this is a pretty crazy thing to do—even for Louis.

He approaches Harry and puts his hands on the counter that’s separating them.

“Aiden.”

Harry expression goes from confused to even more confused and he looks like he’s about to question him before Louis continues, “Aiden. He broke my heart. Cheated on me, actually.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a while. Louis’ biting his lip so hard in anticipation because Harry is just  _looking_  at him, and he’s not saying anything, and Louis wonders if he should repeat himself or continue or  _something_  just to break this silence that’s hanging in the air _,_  but then Harry walks around the counter slowly and stands right in front of Louis.

He brings his hand up slowly—almost hesitantly—but Louis’ not objecting, so he continues and gently brushes Louis cheek with his fingertips, much like the last time. His touch his so delicate and light, like he thinks Louis is porcelain and if he presses just that little bit too hard he will shatter right before his eyes. His touch is like electricity, causing a shiver to run up and down Louis’ spine. He can hear his own breath catch, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just continues slowly brushing his cheek and then moves his hand up to gently fix Louis’ fringe so it’s no longer covering his eyes. They look at each other for a few long moments before Harry finally breaks the silence.

“I don’t think your heart’s broken,” he whispers. “I think it’s just a little damaged. All it needs is a little fixing up and it’ll be good to go.” He drops his hand away from Louis’ face and smiles softly down at him. Louis misses his touch immediately.

That’s when Louis realizes that it’s his turn to say something. Right. That’s how conversations work.

“You don’t know that for sure,” he all but gets out.

Harry nods a little and takes Louis’ hand in his own and gently plays with his fingers. “You’re right, I don’t,” he says just as softly. “But how will you know if you don’t try?”

“I’m scared.”

Harry looks back up at Louis then, still idly playing with his fingers. “Not everyone is going to break your heart, Louis.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, I won’t break your heart.” He’s looking Louis dead in the eye, and Louis is staring right back. You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes—the person’s emotions, if the person is lying or not. He read somewhere that if the person looks to their right or if they blink rapidly while saying something that it’s a hint that they’re lying, but Harry’s looking Louis dead on, eyes all big and green and sincere, and Louis can’t help but believe him.

“I believe you,” He whispers.

The corner of Harry’s lips slowly start to turn up into that smile that Louis loves so much. 

Harry’s eyes are slowly darting from Louis’ eyes to his lips, like he’s mentally debating whether he should do it or not. Louis rolls his eyes and mutters, “Just kiss me already, you fool,” before standing up on his tip toes and gently meeting Harry’s lips halfway. 

The kiss is slow and gentle and just really, really nice. It’s been a while since Louis’ done this—since Aiden, actually—but it seems so easy with Harry, so he just goes with it. He opens up his mouth when he feels Harry’s tongue lick across his bottom lip, asking for permission. Harry tastes sweet, like tea and sugar cookies. They kiss slowly for a while, Louis’ arms draped around his neck and Harry’s hands gently rubbing circles underneath his jumper on his lower back. They’re in no rush. Louis’ never rated any of his kisses, but if he had to, this definitely would be his best one yet.

Of course, they eventually have to pull apart from the lack of oxygen. Once they’re done catching their breaths Harry looks down at Louis and smiles. Louis smiles too, all big and genuine because he’s actually really happy. 

“You’re really something, Harry Styles.” He’s still smiling. He doesn’t think he could stop if he tried, really.

“I could say the same thing about you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry’s lips are all red and wet and plump and Louis can’t resist the urge to get back up on his tip toes and kiss him again. 

Louis never has been very good at resisting his temptations.

-


End file.
